


Eventuality

by botgal



Series: No Worse, But No Better [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuser POV, Beforus, Beforus Culling, Beforus society blocks out a lot of things, Child Abuse, Chucklevoodoos, Culler POV, Culling, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kankri's culler was a Huge Bitch, Lolita and Troll Lolita are awful and not at all love stories, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Pale Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botgal/pseuds/botgal
Summary: "You believe you started feeling the way you do about him long before your moirail decided to leave you. It would be difficult to not feel pity for such a creature. No caste, no chance at a lusus, no sort of heritage to call his own but some far off figure of the past even the Empress wouldn't care to discuss.Perhaps that's why it feels so easy to pity him."





	Eventuality

**Author's Note:**

> In other news people should already know, Lolita is actually a gross story about a pedophile who repeatedly sexually assaults a young girl who he has in his total power because he's also her stepfather/adoptive father.  
> Fucked up, right?

It never started out the way it ended up, of course. Things rarely ever go by that path.

He was just another cullee, so far as you knew. But of such a starkly different color, it caused quite a stir when he was found, so you heard. Something historical to do with his odd shade of bright red. Well, not that it mattered to you much.

Seeing as the Empress was so adamant about him being brought up by a land dwelling Highblood, Purple Blood was obviously the highest that could be done. And since you were officially no longer affiliated with the Church, and had culled multiple other trolls in your lifetime, you were obviously the most qualified for the job.

He always seemed like such a fragile little thing. The Empress had already granted him a name before she'd handed him to you, it seemed; 'Kankri'. The sounds were odd and sharp on your ears. For some reason making your mind linger on the crustacean variety of beasts. Sea Dwellers. Always with their fish.

You had taken him into your arms in front of the Empress when he was but a grub. Handling him in such a way that even the Jade Blood from the caverns who presented him to you had nothing to say. You've had experience. You know just what to do.

You promised that you would take good care of him.

–

He's such a loud little thing at first. As a one sweep old it was understandable. He was just a little bug becoming accustomed to his big new space that was your hive. Everything was already properly wiggler proofed, from previous cullees. You teach him properly how to behave and how to eat. How to greet people by socializing him with your quadrant mates and how to stay out of the way when they come over.

Then he grew to two sweeps, and you're finding you have to be a bit more... hands on, in your approach. Already he's started to question why he can't go outside without you there, over and over even though you explain to him how delicate he is as a mutant. The outside is dangerous for him, can't he see it? You just want to protect him. And, like any petulant little wiggler, it's not long before he's asking within that same vein again.

It's only natural, then, that you decide you must resort to Voodoos.

You did learn Chucklevoodoos and how to use them properly before you left the Church for your own path. Which is why you start off using them in the day, when he's fast asleep on his respite platform. It's not difficult to wander the path of a child's mind, it's always so simple and straightforward, their fears shaped by what they know and have learned. You always try to keep things simple as you can, of course. For his sake. You keep him from schoolfeeding that he might be starting around his age, telling him he can wait another half sweep, maybe a sweep. Of course he can. You almost ponder if you shouldn't just ask an exemption for him. He's a mutant, and he runs so hot. Who knows if it would be worth it to teach him only for his short lifespan to cut off him doing anything with it? If he ever could.

He's left to fall asleep on his own, you relaxing in the kitchen or elsewhere in the hive. Waiting until you're certain he must not be awake any longer.

That's when you make your way in.

You feel around at his mind with light, delicate touches. Wiggler minds are so much softer than adults, so easy to damage. Thankfully, you have the practiced precision of a surgeossectionist. You find the smallest, most inconspicuous crevice, and you worm your way in easily. His fears are not great, but well pronounced, as with all little ones. Fear of loneliness, fear of lack of attention, fear of not being fed, fear of disappointment. These ones are easy enough.

What you're looking for isn't fear, though. In children, it's not yet become a fear, but you know how to fix that for him.

You find it at last. A soft, delicate, golden sort of thing amidst his curiosities and wonders.

His wonder for the unknown. The driving force behind curiosity and things past what he already knows, that drives wigglers to seek out other places to learn all they can.

It takes but a simple touch to spot the golden, swirling surface with inky dark fear.

You make a few other minor adjustments once you feel you have a good amount of fear that's made itself at home. You pull a string between your fingers and attach one end to a dark spot, then find his ideas about the outside, and attach that to the other end. It won't be enough to make him totally afraid of it, of course, you don't want that if you need to take him somewhere. Just enough to stifle any ideas about singular exploration or sneaking out.

You make several trips such as that in your time. Delicately moving and altering things here and there while he sleeps. Once or twice while he's fussy, you even do it while he's awake. Purple is such a pretty color in his eyes, you think.

You know from experience that teaching a wiggler can take a while, so you set up a system easy to combine with your actions in the real world. It's a bit more difficult to find specific audio-based memories than the abstract ideas that make up fears and hopes and such, but you have experience on your side.

That's how you can so easily hold him in your lap and show him the bell while both your eyes flash your color. Not that he knows. You ring the bell for him, over and over. Let him hear what he must keep in his head while you make the adjustments. The sound of the bell is bad. Attach an abstract fear of punishment (though you personally are not inclined to much of that, not on little wigglers), mix in fear of disappointing his caretaker (you) and wind it all up around the sound of the bell. Then you know you have him properly taught. It makes it so much easier on you to... 'supplement' your teaching him with voodoos.

And on him, of course.

Of course.

–

Everything has to be perfect, of course. You wouldn't be chosen to be his culler if you weren't good at it. You know how to dress him, how to feed him, how and what to teach him and all the other necessities of bringing up a young troll. You've culled mostly recently disabled adults in your time, only a few children, but some concepts are very much the same.

You portion out his food carefully, giving gentle reprimand every time he tried to ask for more. He's not supposed to have more, he should know that. He'll overeat and lose his perfect little figure. Some might find chubby cullees endearing, but you're of the general opinion that a cullee looks their best when they're seen as waif-like and petite. You teach him (with a bit more Voodoo work, of course) ever so gently about how his appearance is so vital for him. You believe he doesn't care, at the base of it, but you at least feel you're able to make him understand that he shouldn't overeat.

And, of course, you make sue he's dressed his best. You'd like to dress him up in Purple, but you don't believe others of your caste might take kindly to that. Your ilk are proud of their color, and while other Highblood cullers might put their hue on their charges, you decide not to. Grays and blacks are slimming and don't show his color.

They're good enough for you.

–

You believe you started feeling the way you do about him long before your moirail decided to leave you. It would be difficult to not feel pity for such a creature. No caste, no chance at a lusus, no sort of heritage to call his own but some far off figure of the past even the Empress wouldn't care to discuss.

Perhaps that's why it feels so easy to pity him.

The work of a culler could be seen as pale in any other light. Feeding him, teaching him, keeping him calm. It's not that unusual a thought, a culler and a cullee ending up in a quadrant together. How many novels had been released in the last twenty sweeps alone where some lowblood who had fallen on unfortunate circumstances had been put into being a cullee under a Highblood, and had ended up forming a romantic bond with them which could only be called serendipity?

Though, perhaps a better approximation of your situation would be Trollita? That of a young cullee, still just a wiggler, who tempted their culler to such an extent that it began a relationship. Though your feelings of pity are far less red and far more pale than the story told, the ideas is much the same. Your little one, just like that of dear Mr. Humber, has undoubtedly cast a spell on you.

Every time you see him get loud, you just want to caress him and hold him close until he quiets. In some parts of the day, as you watch him write his friends on his husktop, you wonder what it would be like if he were in your pile. Looking as peaceable in your arms as he does when talking to them. Droopy lidded and purring while you stroke his submission reflex as he snuggles into you.

You're completely unsurprised when your moirail finally leaves you. He must have been feeling the infidelity in you for a while. What did it matter when he did? You hardly cared if he was calm or rampaging hard enough to destroy something. If he meant to truly upset you, he'd failed (though perhaps not entirely, it _was_ somewhat difficult to hear his name a while after that).

It just meant your quadrant was free. And you could pursue your true interest without guilt.

It felt so lovely the first time you calmed him down. To hear him go from loud to quiet with a touch of your experienced hands. He was unused to pale, you keeping him from all quadrants as you had, so of course he was a bit distressed at first. But you did do your best to help him ease into it.

Voodoos are so fortunately multifaceted in their uses. Once you have him in the pile, submission reflex triggered, it's so easy to use your voodoos to calm his mind. There's so much fear you can feel, but you know it will calm down in time. It did in the ones you cared for before him.

Perhaps it will take time for him to accept you completely, as it sometimes can. But he will in the end. Soon enough he'll be the purring, complacent little thing in your arms while you stay satisfied, knowing in your blood pusher that you've done well by him as you know how and society desires you to.

It's only a matter of time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to try something from the culler's point of view. It's horrifying yet fascinating trying to figure out how a culler like Kankri's would think in their own mind. Show just the right amounts of manipulation and subtle cruelty while understanding that someone like this would never be a villain in their own mind. Especially if Beforan society hints that such things may not be quite so bad as some 'blowhards' might say they are.  
> Awful subject matter, but excellent writing material.


End file.
